HTBAH Annual 2: Pitch Black
by TheSenjuMan
Summary: "This is my origin story. There's nothing you can do about it. Read if you dare." A tie-in to the main How to be a Hero story.
**Hello everyone! I know I haven't updated HTBAH in a while, but I've been struck by inspiration to write this origin side-story, and I am currently working on a new chapter of the main story as I speak. Writer's block is hell. Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

To understand what I'm telling you, I need you to do one thing:

Listen.

You and I have never been truly, properly introduced; I _was_ Kozmotis Pitchiner. And I'm always one step ahead.

My origin may seem complicated to all those outside of the loop, so why don't I take you to a time that is currently far beyond your comprehension. A time you will never live to see...

Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen:

 **Welcome to the 26th Century**.

* * *

 _January 12, 2510_

 _Oxford, England_

I was conceived in a manner that you call natural. Pushed out, bloodied, a sobbing mess, the whole nine yards. The name of the hospital where I was born was called the Baptist Memorial Hospital. I find it quite humorous, given religion has virtually no impact in my time, but we'll get to that later.

"It's a boy Mrs. Pitchiner!" the doctor announced, holding my now cleaned form. My mother, a dark-haired, green eyed woman of average build and size lay, on the table adjacent to the doctor. She smiled at me, teary eyed. He handed me to her, and she quickly hugged me and started to shush my cries.

"Shhh my little angel, you're with mummy now," Mother soothed. A nurse walked toward her, looking down at both her and I.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" the nurse asked.

Mother looked on, a far away look of contemplation on her eyes; I can never imagine a moment where a woman giving birth hasn't settled on a name. "I-I don't know, I thought about it, but I can't think of anything."

"How about Kozmotis," my father rang, walking through the sliding door, a whoosh sound following after. My father is rather unremarkable in my opinion; average height, very little musculature, brown eyes, that sort of thing. My mother looked at him, confusion swirling in her eyes. "Has a nice ring to it, wouldn't you say, Arcadia?"

My mother looked back at me in her arms and nodded, playing with my stubby little arms. "Then it's settled! Come Orestes, meet your baby Kozmotis!"

Ahh, the ol' sentimental story of a child's birth bringing the two parents together in perhaps their one, true moment of happiness. But as always, for every sunrise there must be a sunset.

Before I continue, let's take a little gander to the world outside of the hospital. Look around you: imagine a place with pristine streets, perfectly sidewalks with over thousands prowling in crowds, metal plated buildings with no graffiti of any kind, bronze skyscrapers extending hundreds of feet, a golden Big Ben in the distance, no trees or anything else obstructing the view. You can even see hover subways and some hover cars directly above you. Sounds like a utopia, doesn't it?

Not quite.

Look at all of them on the ground: smiling, laughing with each other, making pointless small talk that won't matter in a few attoseconds. Mindless drones. If only some of them could see, if only they could know where they stand in life. If only they could know their true worth and not what society tells them.

In my travels through the time stream, I find myself marveling at the assumptions of the future made by those from an era gone by; a world with no environmental problems, flying cars, cures to previously incurable diseases. Oh how naive they are, and how naive _you_ are for conjuring such a preposterous ideal.

In my home era, one could say that discrimination and oppression have been completely rendered irrelevant; after all, 500 years from where you are, you may think 'Discrimination in the future is so backwards and primitive'. Hell, you're probably thinking it in your era. How I wish you were right.

During the blood tests the doctors ran on me, they discovered some statistics on my future condition that were less than stellar so to say. Back then, 10 fingers and ten toes were all that mattered. But now, only a few minutes old, medical professionals were already predicting my exact cause of death and other conditions.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pitchiner," the doctor said, a grave look on his face. "After reviewing these tests, I'm afraid I have bad news." He waved his hand and brought up a holographic screen. "In the case of genetic deformities, Kozmotis, we've learned, has quite a nasty fate."

My mother and father stared on in horror at the projection:

 **54% probability of cystic fibrosis**

 **31% probability of alcoholism**

 **82.2% probability of myopia**

 **5% probability of hemophilia**

 **99% probability of heart disorder**

 **Life expectancy: 32.1 years**

Now I believe is a good time to address the elephant in the room. As iterated before, one would believe any form of discrimination or oppression would still exist in my era; I am here telling you that is utter bullshit.

Complete. Utter. Bullshit.

Discrimination in my era is down to a science. They say that discrimination on any grounds is illegal; but who really takes the law seriously? My society has been split up into two factions: the first being the Alphas, those who are born to physical perfection, no known genetic flaws of any sort, high life expectancy, usually high intelligence, all in all, beautiful.

Then, there were the Omegas, those born with one or several known genetic imperfections, sometimes lower intelligence, poor motor skills, and a low life expectancy in contrast to the Alphas. Can you guess which faction I belonged to?

I was born belonging a new minority, one that is no longer dependent on economic class or the color of your skin. The measure of mankind in my society is solely based on his or her genetic material.

I can see crowds of people now, picking on some poor Omega sod, bullying him, knocking him down, punching and kicking at his body, while others just watched on in silence, either uncaring or too chickenshit to stand up and say something.

Needless to say, my status as an Omega caused quite a stir for my parents. Education-wise, virtually no school in Oxford would be willing to take an Omega, giving the excuse of having no insurance to cover for potentially life threatening injuries for a young one. I remember it now: running in the middle of the sidewalk and tripping over someone's foot, scratching my knee. My mother would constantly, irritatingly dote on every little scratch and bump I got, like I was some sort of frightened, scared little bunny.

* * *

 _November 4, 2512_

At only two years of age, Mother and Father once again conceived, but this time, it was far different. Genetic power is quite a commodity for those with high power and influence. Luckily for my family, we had many relatives in the political sector who managed to pull a few strings. All it took was a few 30 minutes for my parents to weed out any imperfections and bring forth my younger brother, Protagoras. I can look at them now, holding up Protagoras, welcoming him to this Earth as if he were Her Majesty herself; all it took was for me to see the twinkle in their eyes to know that I would now be known as the runt of the proverbial litter.

* * *

 _April 3, 2527_

I sat at the dining room of our complex, reading up on the history of the world and the many figures who succeeded and made it in there despite their limitations. One group that I was positively obsessed with were a group of individuals with extraordinary abilities who saved the world countless times. As I examined further, I found it quite odd; there's no known source of any disabilities, their names, hell, not even the time period they were from. You would call this a myth based on the lack of evidence, but these Guardians as they're known have an entire museum dedicated to them. I had to admit, I admired their grit and tenacity in the face of overwhelming odds and grave danger. This Night Fury fellow sounded quite thrilling.

I was distracted from my studies by Protagoras coming through the door. "What you reading, Kozmo?" he inquired.

I looked up at him, straightening my glasses. "Something you'd never be interested in," I retorted. My dismissal only prompted him to try and snatch my research away from me.

"Come on, let me see!"

"I said no!"

"But Kozmo-"

"No, Protagoras! My decision is final and I will not tolerate anything else!"

"You're such a bloody buzzkill sometimes!"

"Kozmotis!" the sound of Father's harsh voice rang through a giant, panoramic screen. I looked toward him, pleading for him to take my side in the matter.

"Father, I was only telling Protagoras-"

"Enough from you! You're a disappointment, Kozmotis." The screen soon faded to black. I looked toward Protagoras and I could see smug satisfaction on his face; look at that bloody shit eating grin.

I resigned myself to my room, where I punched a pillow with all of my fury and and frustration. I could feel my heart beating rapidly into my ears and I began gasping heavily, the air leaving my lungs rather painfully. As I lay there, gasping for air (to which it eventually returned), I could only stare at the many drawings and portraits of the Guardians that surrounded the walls of my room. 'Someday', I thought to myself. Someday, I could be just like them and enter the history books, regardless of my underclass status.

* * *

 _September 28, 2531_

At the age of 21, that was when I decided to venture the world outside of my bubble for the first time. Mother constantly nagged at me about staying within the family's ranks, but I assured her and Father that I would always keep in touch and never discard my connections.

I'll never forget the night where I was calmly walking down the sidewalks, and randomly, a group of Alphas began attacking me viciously. The most important thing about that little scuffle however, was the moment I landed a blow on one of them; oh, how marvelous it was seeing that bug eyed little fucker bleed profusely through the mouth. I may have lost the battle at that time, but I proved to myself that I was not weak, and these Alphas were not as strong as they seemed to be.

I found myself initially working as a custodian within the Guardians Museum in the district of Berk; I was solely disappointed by the fact that because I was an Omega, I wasn't "suitable" for a job as a researcher. The system's assumptions about the intelligence of Omegas still ran through even the most non-physical of jobs. I can't keep track of how many toilets I scrubbed, how many trash bins I cleaned out, and let's not mention those bloody Alphas constantly mocking me behind my back. Even in my bloody awful job, my research on the Guardians never ceased.

At this point, I was only 5 months into my menial job when I met Nicholas St. North. North was a fellow Omega, though looking at him, you'd never tell with his large, muscular frame and bushy white beard; he was an old bastard alright, but a bastard I soon learned could supply me with many things. One day, I met up with North in one of the alleyways, all the way near a fence.

"I maybe give you job as museum curator, yes?" he offered me. I looked on, perplexed.

"Curator?" I parroted back.

"Sure. You get job of dreams, closer to Guardians, what else can you ask for?"

"Only one problem, Nicky: would they take an Omega like me in their ranks?"

North crossed his arms and smirked. "Never said legal, did I?"

My eyes widened. "Are you suggesting I break the law in this case?"

"Think about it: they never take Omega like you and me?"

"I-I could get in if I wanted to!" For all my brave talk, I knew it was just that; it wouldn't matter if I met all qualifications, what would matter is my status. Alphas got the glorious positions, but us Omegas, we get the shit end of the stick.

A few moments of silence passed before I sighed and continued. "What do I have to do, Nicholas?"

* * *

 _June 1, 2537_

North did manage to pull a few strings for me at that moment, and I assumed some poor bloke's last name and became a curator under the name "Kozmotis Butler". I never thought I would manage to fool the system, but those sods are none the wiser.

In that museum, I felt like a god. My studies paid off and no one else, not even fellow researchers there, knew more about the Guardians than me. They even nicknamed me "Professor Night Fury" due to my extensive research and depth of knowledge on him. I always found it so fascinating at how a man with only one ability could apply that one ability similar to the devices known as 'Swiss Army knives'. He was resourceful, determined, and guess what? So was I!

About two years ago, I traveled to the underground of the museum and built my own lab in order to fully understand the Night Fury; not just by way of motivations or any other sentimental bullshit, but exactly how he got his powers, and what exactly is this 'Speed Force' that kept on coming through so often in my research.

I passed through the holographic, body signature reading walls of my lab and looked at the podium. I always wondered, why did I pick gray with a bunch of Braille dots as my main design for this place?

Doesn't matter.

I waved my hand and it brought up a projection of a blue, floating head. "Gideon?"

"Yes Professor Pitchiner?" she replied.

"Take an entry: 'Today, among my colleagues, there were rumors that the time capsule within the Night Fury section of the museum emanated a strange, electricity-like energy. Tonight, I plan to go back and investigate what exactly this energy is. Who knows? Maybe it can tell me more about this Speed Force that eludes me.' End entry."

The screen of my entry log dissipated, but I still remained in my lab for one last thing. "Gideon? Disable all alarms and motion sensors within the Guardian museum."

And that night, as I breached the time capsule, I discovered it: the Night Fury's super suit.

It was as glorious as I remember; tri-polymer fabric, lighting bolts on the torso section, and a round, black button on the chest area.

"Now let's get to work," I told myself. I knew what I was doing was most likely illegal, but I just had to know more about him and the Speed Force.

* * *

 _August 12, 2540_

It had been three years since I pillaged the Guardians' time capsule, and in that time, I've spent both maintaining my cover and researching whatever I could about the Speed Force.

Apparently, it is the one energy that encompasses every move mater takes in any universe, even ours.

The rumors among my colleagues were true; there was something emanating from the capsule, but I found the true main source...

Night Fury's super suit. I remember how it glowed bright yellow once I took it into my lab. The sparkles of energy flying everywhere, hitting the floor and the walls.

I closely examined the suit at a microscopic level and I found it! It was a spark that looked very similar to how the history books described the radiation of the Great Wave!

"M-my God!" I cried out in excitement. "I can do this! I think I can actually _be_ the Night Fury! I can have his same powers!"

Oh what a naïve little fool I was back then.

I trifled around with the small sparks of molecules, trying to figure out exactly how to harness them in order to gain the Night Fury's super speed. But then in one fell swoop, it happened.

Lightning erupted from the fabric of the suit and struck me, bathing me in black electricity for what must have been a full minute. After that, darkness was all I could see.

When I finally came to, I was in a haze; the headache I experienced was worse than some of the most violent hangovers. Speaking of hangovers, the film is still relevant among drunken imbeciles even 500 years later. But enough of that.

I looked all around the lab and surprisingly enough, it was still in one piece; so the explosion wasn't as violent as I thought. I still needed to test what effects the lightning had on me. When I put my hand on my chest, it was beating rapidly, more so than what was healthy, and yet I still stood, unharmed by the rapid beating. I looked down at my arm and it-it was **vibrating**!

"Yes! Bloody hell, you've done it, Kozmotis!" I yelled to myself. Oh how giddy I was to know I had attained superpowers. Me, an Omega, the runt of the litter, the bottom of the barrel, could now do things those Alphas could only dream of.

I went to clean up the chemicals that splattered around my lab at full speed, and I must say, it was one of the most glorious experiences of my life. The power, the rush, the electricity flowing through my veins; I was now one with it. One with the Speed Force. I felt that I could be the Night Fury of the 26th Century. Maybe I could meet the Night Fury of the past era.

But as they say, some good things must come to an end.

* * *

 _August 19, 2540_

I was walking down the streets of Oxford, trying to find any antique shop that still held relics from the 21st Century. So far, I checked five stores and my searches came up empty. I should have expected this; after all, to you 21st Century barbarians, wouldn't you expect to not find anything from back during the Reformation period?

So I walked into the 6th shop and there it was: a large, silver treadmill that looked a lot like how the Cosmic Treadmill was depicted in those ancient photographs. Yes, I've finally done it! Now all I need to do is buy it and be on my merry way to meet the Night Fury. But I had to take care of one little thing first.

I walked up to the owner of the pawn shop. "Excuse me sir, how much are you charging for the treadmill?"

"Nothing. It's not for sale."

I decided to bring up my job credentials. "I am a curator of the Guardians Museum-"

"Listen here, you ol' git," he began, irritated. "I deal with blokes like you all the time, so let me tell you once more, it isn't for sale, now beat it before I blast you."

Wrong words there, good man.

Because as soon as he said that, my hand started vibrating, and as he turned away from me, that's when I did it: I shoved my hand directly through the poor old sod's skull and into his brain. When I took my hand out, blood splattered all over the counter in front of me. "Shit!" I yelled to myself.

"I gotta get out of here before the Science Police show up."

Oh yes, forgot to mention that little fact, right? Well, there's two methods of law enforcement in my era: first, you have the regular ol' constables, who deal with things like petty crime, murders, kidnappings, sexual assaults, etc. Then you have these little buggers: a special task force that deal with crimes on a scientific level, such as illegal cloning, illegal researching, and yes, even time travel is outlawed here. To be honest, I could give less of a shit, but who wants to be caught by law enforcement, huh?

So I quickly dismantled the treadmill, piece by piece and used my convenient super speed powers to whisk them back to my underground lab; that's the thing about super speed: no one can ever notice anything because you're so damned lightning fast, and how can they prove it?

* * *

 _August 21, 2540_

There I stood, clad in the Night Fury's suit, which had also been rendered black by my previous experiments with it, and I was on the treadmill, fully powered, and I was about to make my trip back to the past.

"Gideon!" I called out to my left hand, and there she was, in all of her disembodied, digital glory. "I want this whole experience to be recorded, in case of any mishaps that might occur."

"As you wish Professor Pitchiner."

She disappeared back into my hand and I began running, picking up velocity with every second that it took. Soon, I became a blur even to myself, and I could see that I had black lightning emanating from my arms and legs as I moved.

After a full 3 minutes, I saw a blue portal materialize in front of me; curious, I entered the portal, and the way that what was inside could be described is this: utterly bloody incomprehensible. Blue was all I could see, and within that blue aura, I could see these disembodied images that looked like recordings, of various people, buildings, objects, I don't know what they were and I didn't care. All that mattered to me was meeting the Night Fury, and soon I will.

My thoughts were distracted when the portal sucked me in, and all I could see afterwards was darkness. Pure darkness.

* * *

When I came to, I was lying on a cold, wet street. I opened my eyes and I saw oak trees that went on for miles on both sides of the sidewalk, and wooden, brick, and stucco houses. Leaves were falling off the oak trees, and no one was on the sidewalk.

For some reason, I had quite the pain in my head, seering almost. I took off my mask, put my left hand up to my forehead and looked at my right hand. "Gideon?"

"Yes Professor Pitchiner?"

"Where the bloody hell am I?"

I watched as Gideon brought up multiple images, newsfeeds, and soon a calendar. "It is currently March 13, 2037."

2037?!

That was when I realized that I may have travelled a bit too early-

Good God, my head is killing me! Did I hit something on the way here!

Well, no matter! The Guardians Museum is still open, so I guess I can still find out if he truly exists and not a mere legend! Because if I came here for nothing, bad things will surely happen to someone. And you wouldn't want to witness that, would you?

WOULD YOU?!

...Sorry, it must be my headache talking.

* * *

 _March 14, 2037_

I was able to pick up a nice disguise for myself to blend in to this barbaric era (I may have stole it from some poor sod, but hey, he was asking for it!), and I decided to go to one of these burger restaurants I've learned about back in my time. Oh yes, forgot to mention that: cows are extinct in my era.

Greedy little bastards us humans are, aren't we? I must say, beef is quite the delicacy. So tender, juicy, and very delicious!

But getting back on point-shit!

This damned headache is starting to get on my last nerve!

I gritted my teeth and had to push through the doors of the museum, which was quite irritating; when you're so used to self-opening doors, you feel that way. I walked through and by God it's still amazing in here centuries earlier.

Statues, drawings, paintings, newspaper clippings, and all sorts of memorabilia! I passed through one shelf, which had a book called 'The Autobiography of Jay Haddock'; who the hell is he, and what makes him so special to get in here?

I finally managed to locate the Night Fury exhibit and there he was...well a statue of him anyways. Look at it, a gleaming coat of red, the majestic pose of staring someone down, the lightning effect, my goodness, I might have to come to the 21st Century more often! But I must ask: who is that person the Night Fury is staring down at? A man in a black suit, kneeling in defeat; I have to feel a little sorry for him..but I don't. You mess with the Night Fury, you get no sympathy from me!

I took a gander at the plaque embedded at the bottom of the statue and I read:

 _A depiction of the Night Fury, triumphant over the defeat of his most hated enemy, Pitch Black, another speedster who dueled with the Night Fury countless times in his life._

Pitch Black? Hmm, never heard of him.

I continued reading:

 _Pitch Black, real name Kozmotis Pitchiner, was a time travelling maniac from the 26th century with a deep grudge against the Night Fury for reasons unknown..._

That's when I immediately stopped reading and clenched my fists.

No. No. No. No. No. No.

It can't be! This-this is utter madness! I can't even comprehend it!

Me?

I'm the one in that statue?!

ME?!

But I-I look up to the Night Fury. I respect him so much, I want to be him!

I quickly zoomed out of the museum, not even caring if anyone saw me, and I stood in an empty field on the outskirts of the city, and I screamed.

I yelled.

I bellowed.

I ROARED!

This must be an utter joke, right? Tell ne you're joking! I thought I was going to be a brother in arms to this legendary, godlike figure, and instead, I'M his worst enemy?! You mustn't know how devastating this must be; imagine finding out, after all your years of living, all your years of practically worshipping someone, dedicating your life to someone, that you are public enemy number bloody one in their eyes! That you can never be them, or even hope to emulate them?! You can't? Then you'll never know the crushing feelings that I feel.

Only in a world this shitty, could you even think to say that this is arbitrary and keep a straight face.

"GRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" I screamed to the heavens, holding my fists up, my voice becoming distorted as I did so.

"Gideon!" I hissed. "Search the most recent newsfeeds of this era with the terms 'Pitch Black'!"

As I commanded, Gideon led me to an article whose headline was "NIGHT FURY VANISHES, MISSING IN CRISIS". A section of that article said "After a cataclysmic battle with one Pitch Black, the Night Fury mysteriously vanished in a flash of light along with his enemy.

The headline was from 2025, 12 years earlier.

So I just came here, practically throwing away any semblance I had of a normal life, to find out that my dreams have been crushed and I've come to the wrong era for nothing?!

The rage fueled through my veins as I vibrated, the black lightning flowing across my body, and I took off like a bat out of hell.

I didn't even care anymore, I honestly didn't. I wasted my life, and for what? Some bullshit pipe dream?! And I thought I was smarter than that!

All right, I'll play your little-

*BOOM*

* * *

 _February 3, 2551_

I tumbled and skidded all across the sidewalk, nearly breaking an arm in the process.

Wait, how did I get here?

Where am I?

What just happened?

All I can think about right now is that blasted Night Fury!

Night Fury.

Night. Fury.

Him!

NIGHT FURYYYYYYYY!

I stood up and sped through a building onto the rooftop, and took off my mask. No one can see me, so who cares, right?

I looked at the calendar Gideon brought up, and apparently, I'm eleven years further than my original starting point. I guess I can add time travel to my skill set, eh?

I clenched my fists, coated in lightning, as hard as I could.

I'll play your little game, Night Fury! Since I can't be you, since I can't be your ally, guess what?

I will be the antithesis of everything you stand for. I will haunt your ever lasting thoughts. I will be everything you could possibly be afraid of! I'll be your personal Boogeyman! I will be the darkness that lingers in your heart.

There shall be a reckoning!

Nothing is forgiven!

You ruined my future. Now it's time I ruined yours! And no one, not even your friends or loved ones, will be safe from me!

And you won't even see it coming! Once I make you suffer, in the worst ways imaginable...

...I will kill you!

* * *

 **Read and Review. :)**


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